Jochie

Jochie, my first cat, died on the night of February 18, 1997. He had a liver problem, and was very, very ill. He started eating less sometime in January, got skinnier every day. We’d been to the vet several times, tried to give him different food and medicines. But nothing helped. And then, the day came that he was so ill that we had to have him put to sleep. Officially it is not allowed to bury your dead pet in your garden, but the vet said then it should be alright if we’d make it as deep as 1 meter. I couldn’t leave him at the vet’s, knowing that then he would be put in a garbage bag to be taken away for “destruction”. So we buried him here in the garden. A few months later, a friend of mine made this stone for me (or, of course, for Jochie).

Jochie was very special to me. In the summer of 1983, I was here only for half a year or so, couldn’t speak the language very well yet, was often alone at home and had not much to do. A friend came one day with a kitten to cheer me up. He said that the kitten was the ugliest of the nest of 6 (he had heard that I had a very “strange” taste) and that I could have other one if I wanted. No way! It was such a tiny, sweet, beautiful kitten!

Now I have my Gang. These 3 mean very much to me, I love them so. But I miss Jochie too. Sometimes I even see him coming into the room.

The grave looks a bit neglected (just as the rest of my garden). I’m going to clean it one of coming days… See, there is a lot of moss here too.

Jochie - RIP